I saw a fuchsia
headband tangled and soiled
Crumbled in the
curb of the MLK Memorial Highway.
“Hola” it called
as I drove towards the freeway
“Notice me”, it
implored, like the spouting tulips in the house gardens I pass
There are
countless clubs along this stretch of road,
I glance at
their battered and flaky-paint signage
Named for
far-away places, making even farther away promises
My mind conjures
scenes from the previous night
Break dancers
thrashing on crowded disco floors
Escape artist
converging on the eye of the needle
Here exotic
drinks are concocted to slake parched throats
They’re
deceptively sweet as root beer,
Mood altering
butterscotch with exquisite names like Shangri- Li
or Red Sea Aurora
The uninitiated
are revealed by ignorance to the names; what they suggest
Keep up with
fashion, know your verbs
Far away, they
dance to a different beat
In the
Everglades they sweat with a sultry southern seduction;
but you have to
be from there.
A cop in his
parked cruiser watches me with unveiled suspicion as I drive by
He nibbles on
his fresh glazed do-nut
Contemplating
how he’ll ferret out my wicked ways
I don’t belong
in this neighborhood
his stare stalks me like prey; he has me in
cuffs already.
The willow at the
on ramp waves a subtle warning with its undulating farewell
don’t come back
here white boy
The Airedale on
the second floor balcony barks its repose
We’re not
kidding
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